


A Pattern, Reformed

by laconicisms



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: kink_las, M/M, Oral Sex, Spanking, Wincest - Freeform, Wordcount: 100-1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-19
Updated: 2011-02-19
Packaged: 2017-10-15 18:32:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/163673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laconicisms/pseuds/laconicisms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They haven't done this in months.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Pattern, Reformed

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at [](http://community.livejournal.com/kink_las/profile)[**kink_las**](http://community.livejournal.com/kink_las/) ; now slightly rewritten. Many thanks to [](http://naatz.livejournal.com/profile)[**naatz**](http://naatz.livejournal.com/) for betaing. Any mistakes you find are mine. Set in season 4.

Dean leaves the Impala parked at the side of the road and follows Sam into the barn, stopping at the door to let his eyes adjust to the semi-darkness within. It's dusty and the floor is covered in straw and hay, the scent still lingering in the air. He steps inside, pulling the door shut with a bang, and takes a moment to slow his breathing. They haven't done this in months, years - not since that frantic, desperate last night of Dean's life - and it took Dean more courage than he'd ever admit to everyone to once again ask Sam for this.

 

Sam's standing at the far end of the barn, near an old and decrepit looking sawhorse. "You wanna go back to the car?" he asks, but Dean shakes his head. Sam's holding a paddle in his right hand, tapping it against his thigh in a quick staccato rhythm. It makes Dean's cock twitch.

"No." He wants this; needs it. They both do, and one of them had to make the first step. That has always been Sam before, but Sam's been a little stand-offish lately, secretive.

Sam nods once, sharply, and points at the frame with the paddle. "Get into position then."

"That thing looks like it's going to fall to pieces any second," Dean says. He walks forward until he's standing before the sawhorse, then undoes his belt and slowly pulls down his pants. The front of his underwear is bulging, and Dean shivers as he pulls it down to his knees, freeing his cock and - more importantly - exposing his ass.

Sam huffs. "I tested it, Dean. It can support my weight; it'll support your scrawny ass."

Dean flips him off. He isn't short or scrawny by a long shot, not even compared to his sasquatch of a brother.

He takes off his jacket and puts it on the frame, covering it - wouldn't want splinters anywhere - then lies on top of the sawhorse, spreading his legs and gripping the frame's legs with his hands. "Okay."

The sound of a paddle being swung echoes through the air, and a moment later he feels its impact, feels the dull, sharp sting. "Fuck," Dean says. Sam's chosen the one with a hole in the middle, it seems; it packs more of a punch. "Fuck," he repeats when Sam doesn't answer, just smacks his ass again. They're at warm-up. This is still fucking warm-up, and Sam's already making Dean hiss and curse and grip the wood underneath his hands tighter. Yeah, boy's got some issues to work out.

'Course _Dean_ has lots of those, too.

 _Smack._ Christ. Dean closes his eyes, focusing on the pain and breathes, just breathes. Moans as he starts to lose himself in the sensation, in the heat spreading across his ass; in the sound of his own breathing and the _slap - slap - slap_ as paddle meets flesh.

"God," he says an eternity later, caught between the heat on his ass and the heat curling on his front, cock so hard he might just be able to drill a whole into the frame underneath him.

"Enough?" Sam's voice is raspy, hitched. Perfect.

"Yeah." Dean struggles to get off the sawhorse, mind fuzzy and legs shaking. Sam grabs his arm and helps him up, then grunts when Dean falls to his knees before him. They haven't done _that_ for even longer. Dean's got Sam's jeans already half-unbuttoned by the time Sam thinks to help him. He waits for Dean to open them all the way, then pulls them down to mid-thigh, freeing his swollen cock.

It's leaking pre-come. Dean locks eyes with Sam and bends forward to lick the tip of Sam's dick, and Sam gasps. The paddle falls to the ground, and Dean grins and opens his mouth to swallow Sam down.

"God, Dean."

Sam's hips move backward and forward and it's all Dean can do to hold on and let Sam fuck his mouth, while his own hand fumbles for his cock and strokes a couple of times. Then Sam shouts wordlessly and Dean feels Sam's hand bury itself in his hair, feels Sam's come spill down his throat as his own orgasm hits him, and for one moment it's just Dean and Sam again. Together, as they have always been.

Then Sam pulls out of Dean's mouth, wipes off Dean's spit with a tissue, and puts his dick back inside his pants. He picks up the paddle from the floor and dusts it off before turning around and walking towards the door. "Meet you in the car."

"Yeah," Dean says. "Sure." He stands up slowly, still woozy, but also cold from the sudden lack of _Sam_. Goddammit, Sam.

He cleans himself with a napkin from a diner that he stuffed into the back pocket of his jeans. When he's as presentable as he's going to be, he pulls up his jeans, swings his jacket over his shoulder and strolls out to the Impala. Sam's sitting inside already, head buried in a book. Dean opens the door on the driver's side and gets in, sitting down cautiously.

His ass is still smarting and sitting on it for an extended period of time won't really make it better. Will make it worse, but Dean kinda wants it that way, wants a physical reminder that Sam still cares for him - that way. He shifts once in his seat, feels the dull throbbing increase, and starts the engine.

And from the corner of his eye, he sees Sam's leg twitch, and maybe, _maybe_ Sam isn't so unaffected after all.

They'll have to do it again.


End file.
